


R.F.O.

by letosatie



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Drunkenness, Erik Being Cocky, Erik is a Big Dorkface, Get your cringe on, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Med student!Charles, Medical Procedures, Medical research done by author was exiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letosatie/pseuds/letosatie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is a med student and someone gets something stuck up them and ... please don't make me summarize this, I can't quite believe I'm posting it...  rectal foreign object cherik, need I say more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	R.F.O.

“Charles?” Raven’s voice sounded panicked over the phone, “Can you come help? We need a doctor.”

“I keep telling you, I’m not actually a doctor.”

“Yet. But you will be and you know more than we do. Please come over.”

“Arrghh. I need sleep.”

“Please. We’re... scared.”

“Ok. But you owe me.”

Charles threw some clothes on, some cords and the cardy he’d been studying in. No time for contacts, he grabbed his glasses and then half jogged, half power walked his way to Raven’s, a few blocks over.

She opened the door and Charles could tell the emergency was drinking game related. Raven seemed scared sober, but the residue of drunkenness was coating her and decorating the flat. There was a red-head kid passed out in a corner, Emma was in the kitchen making coffee and Angel was down the hall, sitting guard outside the bathroom. 

Charles went straight there. Clearly, that’s where the patient was hiding.

“We thought we were helping,” Raven was babbling.

Charles knocked, said, “It’s Charles, can I come in?”

“Yes.” A male voice.

Charles pushed the door and closed it again after squeezing through. If the patient was shut in here, then privacy was desired. 

There was, perhaps, thirty seconds when they both just stared at each other. The boy in the bathroom was stunning. He was wearing a T-shirt and a towel. He had an arresting face, with pale eyes that should have faded into the background of symmetrical, strong features but, instead, Charles sunk into them, could read, in fact, a myriad of emotions tossed up in the stormy, silted lake. It wasn’t fear then desire then defiance flipping through one at a time like pages of a scrapbook. The boy felt it all at once, and Charles felt the cacophony of it too, felt it in his toes and between his shoulder blades. 

Charles desperately wished to be transported to an alternate universe where beautiful, cherubic boys like this one loved short, funny looking men like him.

The young man seemed struck too, but rapidly turned red, finally muttering, “You’re Raven’s brother?”

Oh no, that voice. And accent, German maybe? 

“Yes, I’m Charles.”

“She said you were...”

Charles shrugged; he knew what the intimation was. “She said, I was a nerd, therefore, could be socially dismissed and you needn’t be embarrassed to look bad in front of me.” He tapped his thick framed glasses and said, “Clearly nerdy. No need to impress me. What’s up?”

The boy winced. He went an even darker red and rubbed a hand over his face. “Such an appropriate choice of words,” he gulped. “They made me stick a vibrator up my ass.”

“And it’s stuck?” Charles guessed.

The boy nodded.

“Are you bleeding? Is it sore?”

“No.” He looked terrified. “I’m uncomfortable, not sore.”

“I need to touch your stomach,” said Charles, hands out, seeking permission. He got a nod, and felt around. It wasn’t rigid. “Good, that’s good. What’s your name?”

“Erik.”

“And what have you tried?”

“Lube, and fishing for it, and trying to shit it out.”

“Raven doesn’t have a bathtub...” Charles said to himself, shuffling through options in his head. “Umm, ok, we’ll have to relax you some other way. Hang on...”

Charles riffled through the bathroom cabinet and found some rubber gloves, which Raven had bought for dying her hair, and some Vaseline.

“Erik,” said Charles, putting his hands on the spooked boy’s shoulders. “You need to trust me. Can you?”

Erik’s shoulders were tense, hunched, shaking. He stared at the floor, face brick red.

Charles said, “Look at me.” 

Slowly, Erik did, the pale blue clipping onto whatever he could see through Charles’ glasses; he caught his breath, then let it, haltingly, out. “Ok,” he said, “Ok.”

“There is a position that will be optimum for getting this out. Angles, body working for us, blah, blah, blah. You should really go to the ER and see an actual doctor.”

“Please,” Erik begged, clutching him.

“Ok. Do everything I say.”

Charles arranged Erik on his back with one leg propped on the basin, the other on the shower glass, in lieu of stirrups. Then he said, “Are you ready, Erik?”

“Yes?”

“Ok, look at me, and concentrate on breathing and relaxing.” Charles began to slick his gloves and then, gently, placed his fingertips at Erik’s anus. He probed softly inside, waiting until Erik’s body wasn’t struggling against him. He was thinking, ‘This is my life. I choose it.’ Thankfully, he had a healthy appreciation for the ridiculous.

“All right, Erik?” he asked, pleased that Erik appeared to be locked within his gaze. Erik nodded. Charles kept slowly but increasingly going. He was impressed with his compartmentalization because there was definitely a part of his brain that would love to be doing exactly this to exactly this person but under majorly different circumstances. 

“You’re doing really well, Erik. Relaxing beautifully. Almost there.” Charles had his other hand on the top of Erik’s abdomen, applying gentle pressure in small, descending strokes to chase the lump of foreign object toward his waiting fingers.

After a very long time, and the threat of cramp in Charles’ forearm, the tips of his fingers connected with firm plastic. “Yes,” Charles cheered himself on and then with one more push he moved his fingers to attempt to grasp it. But Erik tensed and it was joggled slightly away. “Damn. Sorry Erik, did I hurt you?”

Erik was looking panicked. “No, the opposite,” he said, eyes dropping and Charles followed his line of sight to see Erik’s cock, which had pushed its way out of the towel eagerly.

“Oh Erik, honestly. How can you be getting excited by this?”

“You’re very pretty?”

Charles stared for a minute, then said sternly, “Relax. Or I’m taking you to the ER.”

“Yes Charles," said Erik a bit breathlessly, and fuck, that was way sexier than it should have been.

Charles resumed his scoop and fish rhythm, because it had been working. Erik was starting to sweat when Charles grasped the vibrator again. He could see Erik straining not to move, not respond. 

“Good,” he said soothingly as he shifted his hand to Erik’s waist to hold him still. “Doing so well, just breathe and keep still a bit longer.”

As gently as possible, Charles managed to extract the vibrator, which was blue and glittery. He rolled his eyes, “I did not need to know that about my sister.” He tossed it and the glove in the bin and washed up, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Are you okay? Not too sore? You’ll need to get checked out by someone in the next couple of days to make sure you don’t develop an infection.”

“Can I see you... to get checked out?” said Erik, pausing just long enough that Charles was unsure what was actually meant.

He turned around to stress once again that he wasn’t qualified. 

Mistake.

Now that his professional urgency was no longer needed, Charles was overwhelmed by a teeth stinging wave of attraction for the lanky boy stretched out on the floor. It didn’t help that Erik was saying, “Please,” and looking up at him with beseeching puppy eyes.

“Uuuhhh,” Charles uttered, suavely.

Erik obviously sensed the chance to push his point, and raised up to a kneeling position, towel discarded, idly stroking a very impressive specimen of a functioning penis. “You’re the only person I could trust to really take care of me,” Erik insisted. He wrapped one big hand around Charles’ knee, while his other fingers continued to trace languidly over the curve of his glans.

‘Circumcised,’ thought Charles, trying to cling to medicine as a shield. He opened his mouth to say something clever and medical. “GNmfrfhcjsdhccffTtk,” he said. The English, Latin and Greek he knew had exited his brain leaving only random groupings of consonants at his verbal disposal.

“Will you take care of me Charles?” Erik asked, dipping his fingers into Charles’ waistband in a vague pretense of needing support to get up, and looking up at Charles from under stupidly persuasive eyelashes.

“I…” Charles strangled out. Okay, it was a one letter word but it was a word. 

“Thank you for helping me,” said Erik, nose now hovering just above Charles’ cheekbone.

“How drunk are you?” asked Charles, making friends with language again.

Erik shrugged, “Drunk enough not to drive, sober enough to know I want to lick you all over.” His voice had lowered to a rumble like a distant breaking wave.

Charles gulped. “I think you have that the wrong way round. You’re sober enough to know not to drive and drunk enough to want to lick me. I’m going to get some sleep. Come see me tomorrow so I can ensure you don’t have a temperature and so on. I’ll be home by five.”

He handed Erik the towel. The tall boy was grumpy and sullen, insisting, “I’ll still want to devour you when I’m sober.”

Charles tried to ignore the torrent of heat washing through his groin and belly, instead leaving rapidly after saying, “Well… that would be a very effective way to thank me. See you tomorrow.” 

He grinned wickedly when Erik’s face illuminated with anticipation and was grateful for the cooling drizzle which coated him on his way home.

**Author's Note:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE don't kick me out of the fandom, I really like it here.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [R.F.O (I'm Not A Medical Professional Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000038) by [betamax524](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betamax524/pseuds/betamax524)




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